


Heartbreak Boy

by Rucksack (wingblade)



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Bands, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - High School, M/M, Modern Era, Portland Oregon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-19
Updated: 2014-10-19
Packaged: 2018-02-21 17:08:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2475872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wingblade/pseuds/Rucksack
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Terra dedicates this song to Ven; the one who never sees the truth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heartbreak Boy

**Author's Note:**

> This is the last story in my current notebook, the first being “Something Lacking.” Wow! Gross sobbing. Inspired by 5 Seconds of Summer’s “Heartbreak Girl.” I don’t think I’ve ever written a band AU, or at least never finished one, so I wanted to try! Today is also the _Sweetest Day_ , so happy Sweetest Day to you!

It’s always been about making music with friends. They had promised a long time ago — Terra, Ven, and Aqua — back when they were just a band in high school, which was like being a fish in the sea. The difference now is that, after playing at Aqua and Terra’s high school prom, people think they’re “cool,” like it’s an overnight change. Instead of snickering about Aqua “showing off” in choir or rolling their eyes at Terra in guitar class, people are sucking up to them. People are touching Terra’s arms far too often — and in such an awkward way that swatting them away reminds him of a fly-swatter, and comparing human beings to insects is none too flattering, he has found — and scores of people are trying to pick up Aqua almost as often as a clock changes time. They’ve been promoted from an “annoying high school band who won’t stay together past graduation” to a “high school band who played at prom,” and finally now to a “college band.” So now they are fish in a much larger sea, but whose sea is condensed primarily onto a large, predetermined campus.

Ven is three years younger than his bandmates. He was in middle school when they all started playing together. Out of the three of them, Ven had always received the least attention, which admittedly suited their frontman, Terra, just fine. He’s what one might call “protective.” Aqua could deal with telling off a suitor if need be. Ven, however, has always been different. Rather than being weak or cowardly, he consciously chooses to be “the good guy” in every situation. Aqua and Terra adore him for it, but worry. Ven’s sweet, giving nature always brings in a villain eventually.

And this time has been worse than any other. Once Terra and Aqua started college, the three began playing at small venues, and even a few school events. Terra remembers it being at the Hollow Bastion Theatre where they first encountered _him_ : golden eyes glowing in overhead blacklights. Terra was near the bar — close enough to return for another drink, but not quite close enough that he wouldn’t be able to stay with Ven — and he sipped his drink as he watched over his younger friend. The blond had a half empty bottle of water in one hand as he moved his body to the music. They had opened for a much more popular local band, and now was their time to bask in sweat-soaked clothes and relax their wildly beating hearts. Finally off the stage, the sweat began to cool, rather than choking them with its heat. Terra finds this to be one of his favorite parts of shows, even now.

The moment the kid snuck up to Ven, Terra knew he’d be trouble. He had black hair, smudged eyeliner, and torn jeans, but what really set Terra off were his eyes and that nasty grin. Somehow he drew Ven in, and before long, Ven had set his bottle down to join his newfound friend on the dance floor. Terra kept his eye on the two, noting that, oh, great — the black-haired teen was leading Ven into the mosh pit. Ven, of course, wasn’t new to the concept of moshes, but he had never actually been in one. The second he fell, Terra dropped his cup and was beside him in a heartbeat, pushing aside everyone who dared deter him. It didn’t matter that the black-haired guy was helping him up — or anyone, for that matter. Terra glared at him and pulled Ven back towards the bar.

Grabbing and uncapping his previously abandoned water bottle, Ven squeezed it in his hand and poured the remaining water into his mouth, causing Terra to gawk at him. Terra pulled him back through the crowd, then through the door backstage. The music was a little less deafening there.

“What were you thinking?” Terra scowled, hand still gripping Ven’s elbow. “You know better than to leave your drink alone like that. And to follow some stranger —”

“His name’s Vanitas,” Ven interrupted. “And he just wanted to dance.”

“Moshing isn’t exactly a safe dance, Ven.”

“You mean it isn’t _your_ kind of dancing?”

Aqua interrupted the two, having returned from the store across the street from the venue. Terra was still fuming, but mainly Ven just looked sad.

They’ve seen Vanitas at least a dozen times since then. Terra swears those eyes end up every damn place they play. He’s right, and one night, he’s about to knock Vanitas upside the head for stalking Ven — underage or not — when said blond darts out of the crowd and embraces the supposed stalker. Terra is shocked, to say the least. He backs away and returns to his truck, where he and Aqua lie in the back and watch the stars. The ridges of the truck’s bed are so uncomfortable, and he wants to destroy something — anything — but messing with his own car, then having to be the one to pay for repairs, definitely isn’t in his budget. He pulls out the notepad he keeps in the glove compartment; there are pages and pages of lyrics and notes, and he adds to them now.

_I roll my eyes and call a joke_  
_but I’m glad. I’m really glad you’re here._  
_The best can wait; the best won’t come._  
_I’m just glad you’re here._

_In this place I’ve built, I welcome you._  
_I welcome no one else._  
_But you don’t come. I close the door._  
_I welcome no one else._

“Terra,” Aqua sighs, leaning up on her elbow and brushing the hair away from his face. “These are so sad.”

“Sadder than usual?”

Aqua gives him a hard look. “You need to tell him.”

“I tell him everyday.”

“As sweet as an indirect serenade may be,” Aqua explains, “Ven idolizes you. And it’s not that easy to realize or even accept that the one your idol has eyes for is _you_.”

Terra rolls over, facing away from her and out into the pitch-black parking lot, and says, “He should know.”

* * *

It doesn’t take Terra very long to feel dizzy after draping his head upside-down over the side of Aqua’s bed. Aqua’s here to keep him stable with chocolate, video games, and alcohol. She’s never condoned him really losing it — a drunk rampage after the show on his twenty-first birthday put an end to that — but she can appreciate the calmness a drink or two can envelop him with. Besides, the drinks Aqua brings are never over fifteen percent, and never have what she calls the “rubbing alcohol effect.” She buys stuff that tastes good without having to acquire a tolerance for, nor is it ever so foul as to make Terra feel inclined to throwback. It’s sweet. Terra knows what he’s drinking.

Aqua hands him another drink — one he has to sit up for. She tilts the bottle towards him teasingly, just out of reach. He sighs and sits up, grabbing another piece of chocolate while he’s up.

“Welcome back,” Aqua says. From experience, she knows he wasn’t really trying to think. He wasn’t locked in a personal bubble where his regrets — or inaction — laid him raw. If anything, he was trying not to think at all.

Gaming consoles having been shut off for maybe half an hour now, Aqua fills the silence with music. She plugs her phone into the mini-stereo on her nightstand. The first few songs have no words — just smooth, haunting notes. Terra looks at her, but it’s more looking _through_ her: his vision blurs and he’s _thinking_.

“Terra!” she scolds, snapping him out of his reverie.

He asks, “Do you have paper? And a pen or something?” She hands him the little notebook she keeps by her bed in case she has to write something important down in the middle of the night. Terra is the only one she’s ever shown it to.

His words join hers on the pages now. When he’s done, he hands the notebook back to her and returns to lie in his upside-down position. From here, she can’t see his face. She reads:

_broken love_  
_how to live today?_  
_close your eyes_  
_no regrets_  
_this I’ll always forget_  
_the hunger_  
_the craving_  
_needing something more_  
_knowing, wanting, wishing, waiting_  
_I’m too scared to act_  
_the lights go dark and my vision blurs_  
_and when I wake up_  
_all I think of_  
_is you._

When Terra closes his eyes, he sees Ven. This is something Aqua has always known, but reading it in his own words — his own handwriting — hurts more than she could describe. It’s an expanding feeling in her chest, like a balloon ready to pop.

And it does.

They’re both strumming on their guitars, searching for the ever-elusive tune to these new words, when Terra’s phone rings. One look at the screen and he mouths a single syllable to her: _Ven_. A jumbled mix of sounds emit from the speaker when he answers, and he frowns angrily. No one Aqua has ever known has had such a furious frown. Even when she does it herself, it’s to show discontent. Terra’s is different: it’s bitter and twisted, more akin to a snarl. He’s done it a lot more ever since Ven started dating Vanitas.

Terra doesn’t leave the room. He could, and it’s entirely tempting — Aqua can see it from the way his eyes dart to the door then back to her — but being alone with Ven, and through such an impersonal device, he decides against it. Coupled with his buzz, he’s afraid of the things he’d say. Aqua pats his shoulder.

She only hears one side of the conversation.

“Ven? Hey, what’s wrong?” A lengthy pause, then: “It’ll be okay. You know how he gets. Just give him some time, okay? He’d never leave you, Ven. No one could. I promise. You’ll always have Aqua and me. Are you sure? Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow. Bye.”

After he hangs up, Aqua says, “Vanitas?”

Terra nods. “Vanitas.”

“What’d Ven say?”

“‘Thanks for being a friend,’ and he’ll call me tomorrow at ten.”

“Terra…” Aqua scoots closer, scouring her mind for a way to comfort her friend, but Terra shakes his head and fakes a smile.

“It’s okay,” he says. “Really.” Aqua might have believed him if the hand still holding his phone hadn’t been shaking so badly.

“It’ll be okay,” she echoes, and unlike Terra’s words to Ven — and herself — this isn’t a lie.

* * *

Their show the next day is at a popular independent bookstore. Terra hadn’t slept much during the previous night, but the lack of energy keeps him refreshed. For now, at least — until he crashes. Ven skips into the bookstore as Terra is stuck in-between the sections for video game novelizations and comic books. When Ven finds him, he shouts his name: “Terra!” No one scolds him because either no one cares or they’re just too lazy. Aqua is in the next room, browsing manuals and self-help books.

“Hey, Ven,” Terra greets, turning to ruffle Ven’s hair. For once, Ven doesn’t brush him away, in feigned annoyance or otherwise. He just keeps beaming up at Terra, his lips curled into an exaggerated smile. _Only Ven could smile like that_ , Terra thinks, and miserably tries to tear his attention away. His eyes obey, but not his mind. Never his mind.

Their instruments and gear are all set up near the coffee shop within the bookstore, so their audience can listen to up-and-coming local music while drinking locally brewed coffee. Both a fair trade-off and a fair business tactic. They’re not scheduled to perform for a while, but Ven’s sudden presence has awakened a twisting anxiety in Terra’s chest, so he pulls Ven over to Aqua — buried in her various game and mechanical and “better yourself” guides — then pushes the two towards their makeshift stage. Ven trots off ahead without much persuasion, but Aqua raises a small paperback book she’s been holding for Terra to see. Terra reads the title — “ _Sex Guide for Men_ ” — and rolls his eyes.

“As if it’s gotten that far. Or that I’d need it if it did…”

“Oh, it will!” Aqua exclaims, turning on her heel so fast — still clutching the book Terra isn’t sure she’ll be putting back now — she startles a passerby as she exits the aisle.

Terra follows her over to their gear. Ven is making sure his drums are all set to play. Better, they know, to check over everything before a show starts. Terra actually loves how they’re obscure enough to be a band exclusive to opening; at larger shows, the sound checks in-between can be brutal. He has seen some as long as an hour, and maybe even longer. He drinks more during the drawn-out sound checks — sidling his way over to the bar a little more every time he hears a swear or crash coming from one of the people setting up on stage — because inevitably he’ll be asked to help. And he can’t keep such a good eye on Ven and Vanitas while he’s working on stage.

 _Will Vanitas be here today?_ Terra wonders. Ven had to have invited him; he always does. He hopes the high-schooler won’t come too close — seeing as the “stage” here isn’t raised — or else his guitar or mic, or both, might slip and blacken his eye. But just maybe.

Once they’re ready to play, the room is nearly full, much to Terra’s surprise. The lights are dimmed a little and they make their way through some of their more popular songs. Usually they’ll have an actual set list to follow, but it isn’t uncommon for them to stray. They’ll share looks and nod to each other, signaling their intent, but this time, Aqua starts a new song on her bass without deferring to anyone else. The sound of her bass alone might alarm their audience, but Terra swoops his gaze away from them, turning his head to look at Aqua. He looks at her so long and hard he’s sure she can feel the goosebumps clawing up her arms. She just smiles over at him.

It’s one of Terra’s “Ven songs.” One they wrote together in Aqua’s room; one Terra thought had been in confidence. If he could be mad at her, he would be, but he just loves her too much. Terra starts strumming his guitar to back up Aqua’s tune, and Ven doesn’t even try to hide his confusion as he keeps his hands raised momentarily, unsure whether or not to stay out entirely or just ease into the rhythm.

Ven chooses to play with them, and Terra smiles. Then he sings:

_I tell myself everyday_  
_that I don’t want to be me_  
_what I always forget is_  
_that I do it because_  
_this is how I grieve_  
_this is how I cope_  
_I give you love_  
_because it’s the one thing_  
_you won’t give to me_

Terra looks over to Ven, and their eyes lock as he finishes:

_if I didn’t have that_  
_if I didn’t have this_  
_I’d die_  
_I’d die_

There’s applause, then people begin shuffling off for coffee. The lights seem to be turned on slowly, like in a slow-motion sequence, as Ven hops over cords and cables and wires to be able to touch the arm of Terra’s sweat-stained shirt. Terra leans down, fully expecting a warm whisper in his ear about how Ven is thirsty and wants water or ice cream, or how he’s tired, and will Terra carry him out to the truck so he can latch his arms around him like a starfish, and be equally as difficult to separate from as said echinoderm? But instead, Ven kisses him, softly and innocently and full of sweet sweat. He wipes Terra’s brow, making it permeable to the much cooler air, and peers up at him adoringly. Understandingly.

Terra realizes now that Vanitas never showed up at all.

As they’re making their way out of the bookstore, Ven grabs his hand, and right before they can leave, Aqua throws a plastic bag at them. Terra catches it with his free hand and, unwilling to break this newly-formed union just yet, motions for Ven to open it. Ven pulls the book out with his left hand and turns red at the title.

Aqua calls out to them, “It’s okay to admit you need a little help, y’know!”

And Terra nods to her — squeezing Ven’s hand in his and sucking in the cold, autumn air — because that’s what he should have done a long time ago.


End file.
